Zachary Cole Smith has overcome a multitude of problems to make this intensely powerful album
Mac Demarco - '2'
DeMarco is Ferris Bueller with a guitar, basically.
A year or so later, DeMarco returns with '2'. This time we get a better glimpse of him. Suburban, slacker, bratty but charming bratty… Ferris Bueller with a guitar, basically. On the opening 'Cooking Up Something Good', we get a little glimpse of his home life: Mom slaving over a hot stove, brother out skateboarding, DeMarco in his bedroom way past midnight, chewing on nicotine gum. "Oh, life moves this slowly", he choruses, lazily. "Just try and let it go…".
What '2' makes clear, quickly, is that DeMarco is a skilful songwriter. Lyrically witty, full of neat turns of phrase, his songs recall the quirks and kinks of Jonathan Richman, the tale-telling and wit of Alex Turner (specifically the Arctics man's gentle, romantic work on the Submarine soundtrack), and the playful verbosity of Pavement's Stephen Malkmus – who else, after all, could get away with a song called 'Ode To Viceroy'?
All this is neatly balanced by an instinct to not overstate anything that works just as well understated. 'Freaking Out The Neighborhood' is a languid apology to Mom ("It's no fun/When your first son/Gets up to no good") for some untold act of youthful misadventure, while 'The Stars Keep On Calling My Name' finds Mac inviting a girl to skip town with him, while having no particular destination in mind.
But let's not understate things ourselves. Mac is a great guitarist, deft and spare, with all manner of little calypso flourishes, and the ear to bash up the song a bit if that's what's called for. 'Robson Girl' comes off just a little too sweet at first, so at the bridge he grabs hold of the tremolo arm and shreds the hell out. And there's a gorgeous closing song in the shape of 'Still Together'. On it Mac unveils something he's kept hidden throughout: a strong falsetto with not a crack, not a flaw. With it, he serenades his beloved, even rhymes "love" with "a glove" and "up above", and still pulls it off. The real Mac DeMarco? Doesn't really matter. So long as he keeps singing these sweet words, you'll want to hold him close.
The film adaptation of R.L. Stine's classic horror novels is shockingly enjoyable
A defiantly bangerless take-me-seriously-as-an-artist album that reveals new charms every time you spin it
The utterly gripping story of how The Boston Globe exposed child abuse within the Catholic church
Hitmaker-for-hire makes a silk purse out of songs rejected by Rihanna, Adele and others